Penumbra 11- The Last Light of Dawn
by A. Farnese
Summary: Visions of the future still trouble Merlin, even in the summer's quiet peace. While the message they impart warns of dark times ahead for Camelot, Merlin wonders if his own fate will be even worse.


_A/N: I'm back! Just a little interlude, to tide you over until the next series of stories starts going up, which should be in a few weeks. Thanks for waiting! A great big thanks to my fantastic beta, Staymagical, for pointing out my mistakes!_

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><p>He dreamed.<p>

_A day came where there was no dawn, just a grim lightening of a night that wouldn't turn to full day. Not today. Perhaps never again. _

_A great host of men gathered on the hillside. In the gloom the crimson of their cloaks darkened, turning from brilliant to heart's blood red while the golden dragons on the banners dulled to a sickly yellow. Another host was arrayed against them, their own banners held high but unknowable so long as the wind failed to blow. So long as the sun failed to bring light to the morning. Drumbeats filled the air, sounding a death march that echoed endlessly through the valley Crows squawked from the trees in the silence between drumbeats. Ordinary crows, not the Goddess's minions though the effect on the men was the same. Regardless of who won this battle, the crows would feast tonight. _

_There came a hush across the red army. The ranks parted as the King rode toward the front. His horse shone brightly against the blood red cloaks. The sword at his side seemed to shine of its own accord, a soft voice sighing "Take me up…" in his mind. Behind the King, the ranks closed again, the name "Arthur" a whisper on the tongues of all who saw him before falling silent. The drums ceased their beating._

_Even the crows were quiet. _

_Arthur drew his sword of light, and when he held it high overhead, it shone as bright as the missing sun. A beacon of hope against the darkness. Then Arthur gestured, the sword sweeping down in a sudden arc as he sounded the order to charge. _

_Merlin never heard it. He rose suddenly, rising high as though he were on eagle's wings, soaring upward until he couldn't discern Arthur from the rest of the knights, then higher, higher, higher until he could not tell friend from foe as the two swarms intermingled, as far away as ants glimpsed from a high tower._

_He looked away from the battle, Eastward, over the mountains. Past Rheged. Past the lands beyond that to the farther shore where a great wave was building, its waters green, then black and sucking in whatever feeble rays of light managed to pierce the gloom. The wave rose, building in strength and power until it could rise no more. It stopped growing stopping for an endless heartbeat, terrible in its stillness. _

_Then it broke._

_It crashed over the land. The sound of it hammered against Merlin, ringing through him- swords against shields and the cries of men in combat. Horses screaming as they died. Fires roaring as they consumed villages, forests, whole cities._

_The wave spread over the mountains, washing across the Five Kingdoms, leaving ruins in its wake. Kingdoms of bones and ashes Ruins where there should have been cities, and silence where there should have been laughter. Camelot stood to the last, her mighty armies refusing to give in. But in the end, even its mighty walls couldn't hold back the tide. Merlin watched, frozen, mute, and helpless as the roaring waters rose ever higher until they spilled over the walls, marking the beginning of the end of the mighty kingdom of Camelot._

"Merlin?"

_A feminine voice lured him out of the vision, the dulcet tones at first concerned, then edging toward panic when he didn't answer her._

"Merlin? Can you hear me? Merlin?"

_He forced his eyes open to reassure her, those eyes as green as midsummer leaves. He tried to respond. Wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but he couldn't summon the strength to speak. Fear clouded her eyes, dimming their brilliance._

"_Don't let this be my last sight of you, my love," he wanted to say. Wanted to reach out to her, cup her cheek one last time, and tell her everything was going to be all right. _

_He couldn't move. He couldn't even say her name._

"Merlin! Say something!"

A hand pressed against his forehead, warm against his clammy skin. He forced his eyes open against the lingering effects of the vision. Whorls of shadow and color spun around him. His head ached like it was about to split apart, but he forced a smile onto his face anyway. "Gwen?" The vision faded away, leaving behind a sense of bittersweet acceptance mixed with despair.

Merlin heard more than saw Guinevere breathe a sigh of relief. "Are you all right? I kept calling your name, and you wouldn't answer. Should I summon Gaius?" She turned before he could answer. "Elayne, fetch Gaius. Tell him it's Merlin, and to hurry, please."

A spot of pale color moved against the shadows. "Yes, My Lady," the girl's voice was higher than normal, pitched with worry. There was a rustling of leaves and silken skirts and the garden door slammed shut.

Merlin reached up and took Gwen's hand between his before she could take his temperature again and fret even more. His hand was cool against hers. "I'm fine. Just sort of fell asleep out here. I didn't mean to worry you." Merlin smiled and tried to look innocent and healthy. Or, at the very least, he tried not to look like he was on the brink of collapse. He was suddenly grateful for the rough but solid trunk of the hawthorn tree at his back.

"Well, you did worry me, and you weren't just asleep, were you?" Merlin didn't need to see Guinevere clearly to know that she'd raised a skeptical brow at him. She'd been taking lessons from Gaius in that regard. "You were having another vision again, weren't you? And don't try to lie to me, Merlin. I can see it in your eyes. They change, you know. The color does." She traced her other hand over his cheek before her fingers brushed through his hair. "They turn pale. Like window glass on a winter's day."

"Betrayed by my own eyes." He smiled at her and stopped himself from trying to focus on her face. His recovering eyesight didn't allow him to see with anything resembling precision, limiting Merlin to seeing vague shapes and colors when the light was bright enough. Just then, Guinevere looked like a dark blur clad in smudges of blue, her face a soft shape against the deepening sky where the last brushes of red clouds marked the remnants of what had been a bloody sunset.

It was that shade of scarlet in the sky that had triggered the vision in the first place. He'd been content to pass the remainder of the day in the quiet of the Queen's Garden, away from the bustle of a day marked by the pomp and ceremony of the arrival of the eastern Marcher Lords- Cador and others who hadn't been to the citadel of Camelot in over a year. Ostensibly, they'd come to acknowledge their new queen. But they'd had ulterior motives. They always did.

They'd come to protest Arthur's rescinding his father's laws forbidding magic.

Merlin hadn't involved himself in the arguments. Being in the same room with Lord Cador and the others only seemed to raise their ire, and Arthur didn't need that. So Merlin had retreated. To hidden alcoves, side rooms, and finally to the Queen's Garden, leaving Arthur to make his point. And make it, he did.

"_Morgana can no longer claim that attacking me will further the cause of magic, and because of that, half her reasons to attack us are gone. Those factions who seek to destroy the Pendragon line in order to make magic free again no longer have ground to stand upon. Those who would seek vengeance for loved ones lost can no longer paint me with the same brush as my father." _

Arthur had stared them all down with an unyielding gaze, affirming the notion that while he might be a Pendragon, Arthur was not Uther. He would stand on his own two feet and make his own choices, his father's legacy notwithstanding.

The Lords who had looked to Guinevere as a potential ally had found no recourse there, either. Perhaps they'd come to Camelot thinking they would shape the Queen to their will as easily as bending a willow wand. They'd found a united front in Arthur and Guinevere, and her will was made of a metal that was no more malleable than Arthur's.

Outwardly, the Marcher Lords had admitted defeat in this matter. Inwardly, Merlin wasn't sure. Only time would tell.

"Merlin?" Gwen's voice held only a trace of worry this time, and more than a little curiosity. She must have wondered what trail Merlin's thoughts had wandered onto this time.

"I keep telling you I'm fine." He smiled to prove it to her, resting his free hand over hers as she tightened her grip on his other hand. "I wonder if you're ever going to believe me when I say it."

"I'll believe it when you actually are all right. You're too quick to hide your hurts, Merlin. You don't have to anymore. You know that, don't' you?" Even without being able to see her properly, he could tell Guinevere was giving him the same, iron-willed look she had given Lord Cador earlier, their friendship softening it only a little.

"Yes, I know it," he acquiesced, "But after a lifetime of keeping secrets, it's not easy to just blurt them out. Even to you or Arthur."

He heard her intake of breath as she began to speak, and a door crashed open. A racket of footsteps drowned out whatever she might have said. "Merlin!" He looked over to the flustered shape that was Gaius, followed by two others. "Are you all right? Elayne said something was terribly wrong…"

"_Don't let this be my last sight of you, my love . . . "_

"Lady Elayne was exaggerating, I think." Merlin grinned at Elayne's sputter of protest. "I am _fine_. Perfectly well. Giddy, in fact. Now will you all stop hovering over me? I'm not made of glass."

"Of course you're not." Gwen raised his hand to her lips, brushing a kiss over his rough knuckles. "You've proven that too many times. But you've had a vision, and what you saw bothers more than you're letting on. Now I know you don't want to admit that, but your visions have come true too often for us to ignore them, Merlin. Even if they do seem like riddles."

"You have enough to worry about without my idle maunderings adding to it." Merlin tried to draw his hands away, but Gwen tightened her grip, wrapping her fingers around his so he couldn't let go.

"Let me worry about my own troubles, Merlin. If you've seen something that affects Camelot, we have to know what it is. How can we know what to prepare for if we're ignorant of what's coming? Tell me what you saw, Merlin." Gwen's voice was gentle, but it was strung through with steel and wouldn't be ignored.

Merlin lowered his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A full fortnight you've been Queen, My Lady, and already your orders carry more weight than Arthur's." There was a snort from somewhere beyond Guinevere. Merlin glanced up, his smile spreading wider as he acknowledged Arthur's presence. Of course he'd know his King was there, but if he had a chance to poke at Arthur's pride, he couldn't pass it up.

"Merlin. . . " Gwen said, a mild warning creeping back into her voice.

He looked back at her and squeezed her hands apologetically. There was a limit to how far he could push her patience, and it wasn't as far as he could push Arthur. He licked his lips, sorting out his memory of the vision and figuring out where he should start. His smile faded. "I saw. . . Two great armies meeting for battle on a day that would not see a dawn. One was from Camelot, and you were leading it, Arthur." Merlin glanced up to the golden-haired blur that was Arthur. A faint light shone around his king's head. He tried to blink it away, but it remained. "I couldn't tell who you were fighting, but I think they were from the east- Rheged, perhaps, but I can't be sure. But beyond that. . . " Merlin shook his head as though that would banish the lingering image of Camelot falling beneath the towering waves. "Beyond that, there was another threat. I saw the sea rising until it crashed over the mountains and washed across the Five Kingdoms, wiping everything away in its wake until it surrounded Camelot. And even the city walls couldn't stand against it. They fell." His voice broke, and the last words came out as a whisper.

"I take it you don't mean that the sea _literally_ washed over the mountains, do you?" Arthur knelt next to Guinevere.

"No. I heard the sound of battle in the waves. Men dying. The land burning. It's not the sea itself rising. It's some threat_from_ the sea." Merlin freed one of his hands from Gwen's grasp and pressed it to his forehead. Headaches always followed his visions, and this one was no different. Worse, perhaps, than the others, dimming his sight faster than the setting sun.

"The Saxons, perhaps? They've always raided along the coasts, but they've never been unified enough to become a real threat. If someone were strong enough to unite them, it could be the greatest threat we've ever faced. And not just Camelot. If the Saxons attacked in force with the Five Kingdoms in disarray. . ." Arthur shook his head, his voice trailing off. Merlin didn't need him to continue to know what the king was thinking.

If someone managed to unite the Saxons under one banner, the Five Kingdoms would fall.

Albion would never be.

His fingers tightened around Gwen's. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," she said. "If some threat is coming, then it's best that we know about it so we can prepare for whatever lies ahead."

"She's right, Merlin." Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and left his hand there. "So will you promise me that if you have any other visions like this in the future, you'll tell us? We can't go blindfolded into battle and expect to come out the other side."

Merlin gave him a wavering smile. It was starting to sound like the conversation he and Arthur had had a year earlier, when Arthur had laid down the ground rules for Merlin's return to Camelot. "I will. I promise"

"Good." Merlin didn't need to see clearly to know that Arthur was smiling again. It was a peculiar trait of his, to know that something terrible was coming and be able to smile in the face of it. Merlin could never do that. Perhaps it was one of the many reasons Arthur was the charismatic leader men willingly followed into the most dire of situations, while Merlin was the one lurking in the shadows. "Now come on. Unless you're planning to sleep out here in the rain that's coming, you may as well come back in with us. I don't think Gwen will let you stay out here anyway. I don't care one way or the other."

"Don't be mean," Gwen said as she batted Arthur's arm with a free hand. They pulled Merlin to his feet, though neither let go for a long moment, waiting until he'd found his balance before they let him be and took each others' hands. It was a gesture he'd stopped needing a long time before. Whether or not they realized it, Merlin didn't know. But it made them feel better and didn't bother him, so he said nothing about it.

"Are you sure you're all right, Merlin?" Gaius asked.

Merlin directed his gaze toward Gaius's voice. With the evening's failing light, it was almost too dark for him to see the old healer without using his magic. "I'm fine, Gaius, really. Elayne didn't need to get you. It was just a headache, and even that's passed." It wasn't entirely the truth. It hadn't been a _little_ headache, but it had faded enough that it wasn't bothersome. He'd experienced enough pain in his life to know how to shrug it off.

Gaius huffed a breath. It sounded like he didn't completely believe Merlin, but was willing to let it go.

It was a trait they'd all picked up from each other, it seemed- knowing that one of them was holding something back and knowing that if it was important, it would come out in the end.

Just like a proper family would.

Merlin closed his eyes long enough to hide the flash of gold, casting the seeing spell he'd grown tired of using. '_Better to use it than to fall flat on my face, though.'_ Arthur would never let him hear the end of it, and Gaius would fret even more and wind Gwen up in the process. They had enough to worry about, especially now that he'd shared the vision with them.

Part of the vision. . . The green-eyed girl hadn't been part of the battle. She was something else.

The door creaked and slammed shut behind them, rattling Merlin out of his thoughts and into the present. ". . . and whatever threat is out there waiting for us, if your vision's a true one, then there's a battle between now and then, and we have to be prepared for it. Merlin, are you listening at all?"

"Of course I am." Merlin tried to look attentive and failed.

"Of course you are." Arthur was unconvinced, but a note of humor had crept into his voice in spite of it. "It's a good thing I don't rely on you for tactics, Merlin. Your battle sense is about as useless as your swordsmanship."

"If you were relying on me for tactics, it would mean that you were even worse at them. Besides. You have an army and scores of knights to advise you on battle plans. I don't know why you want to tell me all of this." Merlin dragged a finger along the wall, the worked stone scraping against the old callouses there. Habit, more than need drove the action.

"Because." Arthur reached out and ruffled Merlin's hair. Merlin dodged away. "If there's some little detail in these visions of yours that will help us find the way forward, figure out how best to defend Camelot, then I want to hear it. If going on about tactics helps rattle something else loose in that head of yours, then I will go on and on and on." Arthur stopped suddenly, his hand dropping to Merlin's shoulder. "There was nothing else, was there? Nothing regarding Camelot's future?"

Merlin looked Arthur in the eye as well as he could with his spell-sight. It wasn't easy. Arthur's spirit shone so brightly, it was hard to look at him sometimes. Like seeing the sun through a thin veil of clouds. "No, nothing else about Camelot. Just the battle at the dawn without a day and the sea rising over the lands. If there was something else that could help I'd tell you, Arthur, but these visions are riddles within riddles. All I can tell from them is that something terrible is going to happen, but I don't know who or why or when. It's not like opening a book and reading a story, it's-"

"Merlin." Arthur took hold of both Merlin's shoulders, strong enough to pull him out of the downward spiral of his thoughts, but not enough to bruise. "It's all right. Tell me what you can, when it comes to you. You do your best. That's all I expect of you. That's all I expect of any man."

"I know." Merlin gave him a pained smile, raising a hand to his eyes before he realized what he was doing. The headache was returning, jamming a dull spike into the space between his eyes.

"Good. Perhaps you should get some rest. You look like you're about to fall over, and the last thing I need is Gaius berating me for letting you break your neck because you collapsed on the stairs. Go on." Arthur turned, urging Merlin forward with a hand between his shoulder blades. "I'd best not see you wandering about the castle before tomorrow morning."

"Is this your idea of giving me time off? Handing me over to Gaius?" Merlin glared back at Arthur.

"There are worse fates. No offense, Gaius," Arthur chuckled, his humor cut short when Gwen punched him on the arm for his lousy attempt at humor.

"None taken, Sire. If there's nothing else you'll be needing, I have a stubborn boy to put to bed." Gaius said drily, nudging Merlin in the ribs with a bony elbow to forestall his protests.

"It's starting to sound like I do, too," Gwen said. "Good night, Gaius."

"Good night, My Lady. Sire." Gaius bowed to the royal couple before taking Merlin's arm so the warlock couldn't wander off without him. The old healer's fingers dug into the meat of his arm, his grip just short of painful.

"Good night, Gaius." There was a smile in Guinevere's voice as Arthur took her arm and they retreated down the hall, Elayne a pale shadow trailing behind them.

"What was all that for?" Merlin shook his arm loose from Gaius's grasp once they'd ascended the first set of stairs that would take them back to their chambers.

"Because, Merlin, these visions take more out of you than you're willing to admit, and it doesn't take your spell-sight to see it. You're pale as a ghost, and from the shadows under your eyes, I'd say you hadn't slept for a week if I didn't know any better." Gaius's fingers brushed Merlin's arm without taking hold, urging him to move forward without making it an order. "Your health may have returned, but you can't pretend that these visions don't affect you. Now. We're going to go home, and I'm going to mix up a sleeping potion for you so you can rest."

"No." Merlin stopped, fixing Gaius with an unyielding look. "I'm not feeling my best right now. I'll admit to that. But I'm not going to take anything that will keep me asleep. The last you did that to me-" Gaius opened his mouth to protest, but it was Merlin's turn to forestall them. "The last time you drugged me- after that assassin tried to. . ." He trailed off and shook his head to clear away that particular memory. "You did it without my knowledge and I had a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I don't want to go through that again. I promise that I will do my best to sleep tonight, and that I won't get up and wander about the castle. But I won't take any of your potions."

Gaius sighed, and Merlin could almost feel the heat of the healer's glare, could practically see the ominous eyebrow rise, but without truly being able to see him the effect was dulled. "All right, then. But try to get some rest. You know I worry about you."

"I know."

"And you're certain there was nothing more in that vision? Something you might have left out? Arthur might not notice how carefully you make your promises, but I do." Gaius's voice lowered out of habit, as it always did when they discussed anything having to do with magic. Twenty and more years of avoiding openly discussing the mystical arts had built an unbreakable habit where such conversations were concerned.

Gaius's caution prompted the same from Merlin "No, Gaius," Merlin said softly. "There was nothing else of import. I told Arthur what I saw, what vague warnings there were, and that's an end to it. As useful or as useless as they may end up being, the message has been passed along. Maybe I'll See something else in the future that will be more helpful, but for now, this is all I have." Merlin spread his arms away from his body, his hands splayed wide in an attempt to convince Gaius of his sincerity.

"Very well, then," Gaius sighed. "If there's anything I've learned about you, it's that you keep your secrets until you're ready to tell them. It used to be that you were foolish enough to spill them, but you don't do that so often these days. I know there's something you're keeping back. And I know that you'll just get angry at me if I press you further on the matter. But promise me something, Merlin." Gaius waved a finger in Merlin's face. "Promise me that whatever it is, you'll tell me about it whenever it threatens _you._ Not when it threatens Camelot. When it threatens you."

Merlin's shoulders drooped. He let out a long breath. "All right, then. You win. Whenever my vague visions of the future start to threaten me, I will let you know."

Whatever it was Gaius saw in Merlin's face, it seemed to mollify the old healer. He let out a satisfied, "Hmph," and turned, leading the way toward their chambers.

Merlin silently sighed with relief. It was true, he _had_ promised Arthur to tell the truth in all matters, even if they were uncomfortable truths- and many of them had been uncomfortable at times, disturbing at others. He'd done his best, told his truths, and thus far Arthur had come to accept what Merlin said. Even if it took a long time.

He had made no such promise to Gaius.

And Gaius had been correct in his observation that Merlin was careful about how he worded his promises, using those words to give himself the space to hold certain things back. Things like the final part of his vision, the part that had come after his sight of the crumbling walls of Camelot. That was for Merlin alone. A green-eyed girl. . .

"_Don't let this be my last sight of you, my love,"_

The first part of the vision had been for Arthur. A warning of what was to come. The second part had been for Merlin. Another warning. In the vision, he'd been the one in danger. Merlin was the one who was dying.

Whoever the green-eyed girl was, Merlin had the feeling she'd be the death of him.


End file.
